


Holding You

by ExploretheEcccentricities



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure
Genre: Dead Body, Death, Depression, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Messed up themes, Murder, digging up bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExploretheEcccentricities/pseuds/ExploretheEcccentricities
Summary: No summary. Just insanity.
Relationships: Quirin & Varian (Disney)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 75





	Holding You

I hold onto you, even though it has been hours.

I’m going to let you sleep in. I know you barely sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep is necessary for growing boys like you.

Perhaps that’s why I found you like this, asleep in your bed without bidding me goodnight. I hope you’re not still mad about the fight. I do hate fighting with you, and I really want you to be happy, but it’s so hard, son. It’s so hard trying to keep you happy, and I think you’ve always known that.

I cleaned your wrists, but the marks are going to remain. Bad boy. Very bad boy. I’ve told you not to do it before. Blood on bedsheets is very hard to clean out. Perhaps you have some alchemy for that, but I didn’t want to wake you from your well-earned sleep.

You’re starting to smell again, even though I just gave you a bath. Did you somehow sneak away to the lab when I wasn’t here? Silly boy. I told you you weren’t allowed to experiment until you felt better. But I don’t want to be angry at you. Not anymore. I know you go to great lengths to do what makes you happy, and what kind of parent would I be if I started getting angry at that?

I need to clean up your workspace, seeing as you won’t be doing that yourself. Well, that’s going to have to wait. The night has been surprisingly long, and I feel very tired.

This is the longest I’ve ever held you, and I’m not going to let you go.

…

I hold onto you, even though it has been a day.

The princess came by, with her little band of friends. They’re very nice, Varian, but they seemed incredibly troubled upon seeing you. For one, they instantly told the large man with the two children to leave. Then they were all over you, checking your neck, your wrist, your eyes. They asked me if you had been ill for long.

I laughed at this, of course, telling them that you were just in a very deep sleep, because you were very tired, and you’ve been working very hard. Everyone knows how hard you work, Varian. Even the strongest amongst us need to rest, however hard it is for others to believe or understand. It must be very hard being strong, isn’t it?

I know you love your friends very much, Varian, but they can be very infuriating. They looked at me like I was crazy. They told me you had died. But that’s not true, Varian. You’re still here, with me, and I feel very much alive. In fact, I haven’t felt this real in ages. They say grief can feel like you are sleepwalking, and you don’t know how to wake up. But I do wake up, Varian. I wake up every morning, and I let you sleep, because I know you get very tired and no one really understands that but me. If I don’t let you sleep in peace, who will? I wake up every morning to fold your clothes, and brush your hair, and read to you. I do everything you don’t like to do anymore because I want to keep you happy. I don’t care how hard it is, to believe you ever will be.

I yelled at them to leave, threatened to hurt them if they didn’t. They did leave us. They left you. What else is new?

But I didn't leave your side, not once, I promise. I _won't_ leave your side. I will never leave you alone again.

You don’t have to answer me when I speak to you. It is incredibly tiring, to answer to anyone sometimes. But that’s why we sleep, isn’t it?

…

I hold onto you, even though it has been a few days.

You should really be waking up now, but I don’t think you want to. Not really. I did nudge you once or twice. I even called out to you, but you were really tired, and so I let you sleep.

Your raccoon does not want to be anywhere near you, it seems. It croons, sniffs at you and backs away. Strange little creature. I try to bribe it with food only so it can stay at your side, because I know you would want that if you were awake, but it won’t do even that. What kind of friends do you have, Varian? Friends that would rather believe you had died than believe you are enjoying a much-needed rest? Friends that have little else to do than act like I’ve gone insane? Friends that can’t be bothered to stay at your side when you are too tired to be awake? I am beginning to see why you were so unhappy.

Don’t you worry, I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to stay with you, for as long as you choose to be asleep, until you wake up and finally eat with me again, talk with me again. Then, you can properly apologize for the way you talked back to me, for the lines on your wrist, for the long nap that really shouldn’t feel so long. I also hope, young man, that you will clean up that awfully cluttered lab of yours. Whatever chemicals you keep in there are starting to smell as bad as you do.

…

I hold onto you, even though it has been a week. And they’re trying to take you away.

Apparently, your friends brought the king and queen. They know it’s hard for me to get out of bed, so they act nice. They tell me they’ll have you buried alongside your mother. How dare they? Why on earth would I want you buried?

They try to console me, tell me that you would have wanted me to move on. What does that even mean? Move where? Move one from what?

You are right here, in my arms. You and I are exactly where we need to be. There’s no where else to go. There’s nothing to move on to. And when I try to tell them this, they say it’s not you. That this-the way you are holding my hand, the way you sleep so calmly against my chest-is just a body, departed from the soul. That somehow, this isn’t the Varian I know and love. But that simply _isn’t_ true, son. I know you’re still here. Why else would I be holding your hand, otherwise? Why else would I still look forward to the day you awaken?

I know your friends gave up on you, once. I know the world turned its back on you, assuming you to be gone. But you were still there. You arose from the darkness they shrouded you in, emerged prouder and stronger than I have ever seen you before. And by God, you’re going to do that again, any day now. I just have to believe that. I have to believe in you.

Unlike everyone else, I will not give up on you, my child.

…

Those traitors!

They took you away. I must have collapsed somewhere, sometime, and they took you away. How could they do this? How could they take you away from me? You are all I have. You are my everything, and they took you away.

I woke up like this, surrounded by the faces of your friends, as well as those of the king and queen. I grappled for your hand, but it wasn’t there. I demanded to know where you were, but they all either wept uselessly or told me that you were gone.

They know I’m getting tired more easily. They tell me I have to eat more. Well, I refuse to eat until they bring you back to me, and I made that very clear to them. How can I possibly let myself eat, when you can be dying under the weight of all of that dirt? It must be _suffocating_ you. I really did try to plead with them, asked them to let you sleep elsewhere. It’s simply not safe to sleep under dirt. It will make you look like a corpse, not that all of those days indoors hasn’t done anything to your skin. I tried to talk to them about that, too, trying to convince them to let me bathe you, but they just kept telling me it would be fine, that I would get the help I needed.

Ha! As if they know anything about helping anyone. And I’m not the one who needs help.

It is you who needs me, son. You need me to hold your hand, and brush your hair, because you’re still asleep. You need to sleep and let me take care of you, without your treacherous friends getting in the way. Then, when you wake up, you can thank me and apologize, and I’ll forgive you without really listening to you, because that is how love works. And I love you very much, my boy.

…

I hold onto you, even though I have lost track of time.

Long story short, I ran away. Because I am not _insane_. I know exactly where I am, and _who_ I am. I know my purpose very clearly, and you, son, are my only purpose for living. How then can they expect me to live, when they spend so much time trying to convince me that you are dead?

I couldn’t walk very well on my own-it’s not the _age_ , son, it’s the cursed porridge I’ve been forced to eat because I couldn’t keep anything else down-but a kind young man saw me stumbling in the dark and offered a nice carriage ride, so I accepted. I realized it was the first time I had properly left the home. As it turns out, the young man was not so kind, for he demanded payment. How- _he_ was the one who offered me that ride! And I didn’t have any money-I didn’t really have anything save the few trinkets the princess let me keep, only because I claimed they reminded me of you. Do you know what else reminds me of you, son? Sleeping. I was very tired then, and I am very tired right now.

Anyways, I realized all too soon that the man would figure out I had run away, and would report me back to the king and queen, so I _had_ to dispose of him. I couldn’t just settle on knocking him out-he knew where we lived! But I also took pity on him-he was just trying to do his job, after all. So I made sure he was fast asleep from the knockout _before_ I let him die, and then buried him honorably. See, son, I know what death looks like. Which is why I was absolutely sure you are alive, and only as tired as I am.

Sure enough, I passed your mother’s grave and was able to retrieve you just fine. Yes, it took all of my energy, and I think I passed out in between quite a few times, seeing as I awoke either on my side or with my head pressed against the gravestone. But I finally found you nonetheless, and by God, even with the remnants of moss and wet mud splayed across your face, you still looked as beautiful as the first time I held you. And so I held you again, and passed out again, but at least this time you were in my arms, and that was all that mattered.

I took you home, gave you a bath, and got you a fresh set of clothes. I read you Flynn Rider and the Lost Treasure of Scotia. And finally, I slept peacefully, with you in my arms, knowing that perhaps, any day now, you would awaken and see for yourself. You can sleep as long as you like, you can withstand my hugs without reciprocating, you can even refuse as many meals as you want.

But your daddy would never leave you alone.

…

I finally saw you today. In my sleep, I think.

You were the happiest I have ever seen you, with your shining blue eyes, your little freckles, your squirrel-like teeth. You always were-always are, my beautiful baby boy. You just don’t look as lively when you sleep.

And you _were_ holding my hand. I swear it. You were leading me, taking me somewhere. I didn’t see where, because I think I then saw your mother, which is impossible. I haven’t dreamt of her since she left us. But oh, don’t you worry. She didn’t want to leave us. She too wanted to sleep, I guess, but she forgot that she needed to wake up, and so she slipped away. You didn’t forget, did you, my Varian? No, you remember that I’m here, still waiting for you to wake up. I don’t know why thinking about it makes me shed tears, because I know for sure that you will wake up. Perhaps I too have grown tired, and want to fall asleep as long as you do. I don’t like staying awake anymore. It’s very tiring.

It’s very hard to keep you happy, son. It’s very hard to be your father. It’s very hard to get up every morning, and to lie down every night. It’s very hard to sleep, thinking about how you still haven’t awoken. Perhaps you have awoken, but I won’t ever know. Your dear friends have saw to that very well. I do so hope that when you do awaken, you’ll see that I did stay here for you, after all this time. I remember your mother used to say that if you see someone in a dream, it means that person is thinking of you. So you see, Varian, I know you are clearly alive, for you thought of me, and thus sent me this kind dream as a sign, that you are still somewhat awake, and you know that I will stay for only that reason.

Thank you, son. It was a wonderful dream. But when I woke up, I felt admittedly more horrible. For you do not look the same.

No offense, son, but you are hideously deformed. You are still my beautiful Varian, but you are no longer a beautiful boy. You look so different from the Varian in my dream, the Varian that I remember being awake, the Varian that used to hug me back and tell me he was sorry. You should be sorry, you know. You smell different, too. I’m starting to understand why Ruddiger didn’t recognize you. He doesn’t come around anymore, by the way.

Not to worry. You know that won’t make me leave you, nor love you any less.

…

I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. You never have.

For you came to me again. You _did_. You thanked me for brushing your hair, and for reading to you, and for saving you from that horrid underground grave that you did not need. You thanked me for standing up to your treacherous friends. You thanked me, and you told me you were sorry.

You were awake, Varian.

You were holding my hand, and told me that you would never let me go just as I never let you go, and that we were going to see your mother, together. You held my hand, and told me of all the wonderful things we were going to do, now that I was about to sleep. You held my hand, and told me that you hadn’t meant to hurt yourself so bad, hurt me so badly, but it was all going to be fine now, because I was getting tired of being awake.

But then, why were you so sad, Varian?

You know what? I don’t care. You won’t be sad once I fall asleep with you and your mother. We’ll all fall asleep together, in each other’s arms, hiding from the tiring burdens of the world, and when we wake up, you’ll tell me, all over again, how sorry you really are, and how wrong I really was, and how great everything is really going to be. I will still hold onto you, even if I can no longer lift my arms to embrace you, nor open my eyes to see where you are supposed to be.

And I will tell you that I am sorry, too.


End file.
